The Roar of Our Stars Round 1: Chat 1

This is that project I was talking about. It shouldn’t have too much more preamble than what I gave when I talked about it in my post this morning (over twelve hours ago holy crap how do I even stay awake this long). But there are some things that need to be said.

First: this is a big fat long graphic. For right now, I am not going to worry too much about it. But if the picture is not big enough to be read, someone comment and let me know, I’ll do something about it.

Second: Credits. I’ll have to post these in each post, but they’ll hopefully be more surreptitious after this. I’ll try to keep the credit links down to only the relevant graphics. In this case, the avatars are, in order of use, from here and here. I do not know if I am somehow using them in a way that will anger someone. I hope that nothing gets problematic, because I’m really not prepared to cave under a fit I don’t understand and change a bunch of graphics. But there’s credits.

Here’s story.

cheydostudio: There you are! Geez, I thought you’d never sign on.
buttonhole: just got back from work
are u okay?

buttonhole –> Button

Button’s bed was lumpy. He tossed his phone to one side, winced as it thunked hard against the wood of his dresser, and then pulled the pillow over his face. There really wasn’t much point in pulling double shifts at the book store. Other than money. The old man paid him in peanuts.

No. Not peanuts. If only. Being paid in peanuts would have alleviated Button’s need for groceries.

He twitched and arched his back to pull the blanket out from under him, with mixed results. In the kitchen, he could hear the cat crunching up the spilled kibble. With any luck, the fat sack of fur would clean up the mess Button had made before his roommate Arthur woke up in the morning.

Groaning, Button rolled over until his forehead hit against the wall. The hollow sound prompted him to indulge in an unflattering assessment of his own intelligence. All of his friends came to him for advice. Even level-headed Delia. He could tell her it was just nerves and there wasn’t really anything wrong, but what did he know?

As his breathing steadied, and the sound of his overweight pet’s poor eating habits faded into the layer of white noise, he repressed all thoughts of what the next day would bring.

—

cheydostudio –> Delia

After Button had logged out, Delia pressed her chin into her crossed arms, ready to fall asleep right there on her desk. On her computer screen, every one of her friend’s usernames came up grey. It probably wouldn’t have been much help even if someone else had been online. Button was the best person to talk to when she was feeling like this.

‘Like this’, meaning that she was in the throes of premonition. It was just like the prickly feeling one got when feeling returned to an oppressed limb. Pins and needles. Except that it never seemed to let up until whatever it was she’d been expecting to happen, happened.

She ran her fingers through her hair, then laughed. Her hair did not look great just then. She’d spent all day out in the wind and ocean spray of the beach, clearing driftwood and trying to enjoy herself in spite of the usual chores. Her hair retained its artificial, cotton candy blue and raven black. But its style was leaning closer to ‘frayed rope’ than chic young thing.

Sighing, she pushed herself away from her desk. Button was right. Whatever she was premonitioning, or whatever the verb should have been, she could handle it. She’d handled all of the others.